Quick viewing(Text Mode)

In the Steps of Operetta: Austrian Cinema's Relation to History

In the Steps of Operetta: Austrian Cinema's Relation to History

ISSN 2414-8385 (Online) European Journal of January - April 2019 ISSN 2414-8377 (Print) Multidisciplinary Studies Volume 4, Issue 1

In the Steps of : Austrian Cinema’s Relation to History

Francesco Bono Dipartimento di Filosofia, Scienze Sociali, Umane e della Formazione, Università degli Studi di Perugia, Perugia, Italy

Abstract This essay intends to investigate some aspects of the multifaceted relationship between the Viennese operetta and Austrian film in the period from the 1930s to the 1950s. In particular, the essay will try to trace the influence of the operetta on the way in which Austrian films depicted the country’s history. Focusing on some of the most popular Austrian films of the period, including ’s Operette (1940), (1942) and Wiener Mädeln (1944-49), as well as ’s trilogy from the late 1950s about the Austrian empress “Sissi”, the essay will critically discuss Austrian cinema’s penchant for the past, investigating the affinity of the Austrian (musical) film to the Viennese operetta, which served as its ideological and aesthetic model. In its affection for the past, Austrian cinema followed in the steps of the Viennese operetta. In contrast with the Hollywood musical genre or German musical films like Die Drei von der Tankstelle (1930) or Hallo Janine (1939), to mention just two of the most famous ones from the pre-war era, history was a key component of the Austrian Musikfilm. In , the overlapped with the historical genre, and it strongly influenced the country’s memory of its past. By investigating the connection between the Viennese operetta and Austrian cinema, this essay aims to provide a better understanding of Austrian films in the cultural, political and historical context in which they saw the light of day. Keywords: Austrian cinema, Austrian culture, Operetta, Musical film.

1. Introduction From the beginning of the 1930s, following the introduction of , to the 1950s, the musical genre and more specifically operetta films represented a significant component of German-speaking cinema. This seems particularly true for Austrian cinema. Along with the genre, that is the so-called Viennese films, consisting in a variable mixture of , romance and and preferably set in the of the turn of the century, the Musikfilm was the other genre that most distinctively defined Austrian cinema in the period considered, up to the point that Austrian cinema would often be identified with it. There are a number of scholarly works paying attention to the influence of operetta on the development of the musical genre in German-speaking cinema (K. Uhlenbrok, 1998; M. Hagener, & J. Hans, 1999; Wedel, 2007; R. Rother, & P. Mänz, 2008). In discussing its relationship to operetta, two perspectives have been, broadly speaking, privileged; focus has been put, on one hand, on the films that were directly derived from stage and, on the other hand, on the influence that operetta exercised on German and Austrian musical films at the dramaturgical and, more generally, aesthetical level. The present essay intends to take into consideration a different and specific aspect of the multifaceted relationship between Austrian film and the Viennese variant of operetta, that is the Wiener Operette, as it developed from the Parisian operetta in the course of the second half of the 19th century, significantly differentiating itself from the French model. By discussing some of the most famous films made in Austria in the period from the 1930s to the 1950s, including Willi Forst’s films from the early 1940s: Operette, Wiener Blut and Wiener Mädel, as well as Ernst Marischka’s post-war trilogy on Austrian empress Elisabeth (better known as “Sissi”), this essay will attempt to trace the influence of the operetta on the way in which Austrian films of the time depicted the country’s history. In its penchant for the past, which long characterized part of Austrian cinema, the latter, as shall be argued in this essay, followed in the tradition of Viennese operetta. History was a key component of Austrian Musikfilm of the time, which on the banks of , as this essay will attempt to show, overlapped with the historical genre, contributing strongly to shape the country’s memory of its past.

80 ISSN 2414-8385 (Online) European Journal of January - April 2019 ISSN 2414-8377 (Print) Multidisciplinary Studies Volume 4, Issue 1

2. Operetta Films and Austrian History An alchemy workshop appears on screen. Peculiar sounds can be heard. Along the wall there is an assortment of different flasks stacked on a rack. More ampoules stand on a large table in the center of the room. A glass retort rests on a flame. An elderly man with a pointed beard, grey hair and glasses appears. An owl crouches on his shoulder, keeping him company. The alchemist takes a number of bottles from a shelf. Their labels read “Humor”, “Levity” and “Heart”. He pours the same amount from each into the retort. Then he reaches for a vial that reads “History”, carefully extracting a few drops before taking a larger bottle labeled “” in hand and pouring its contents generously into the retort. The indistinct music accompanying the scene thus far takes shape, and a waltz begins. As the magic potion begins to boil, its steam etches the film’s title on the screen. Thus begins Forst’s film Wiener Blut, one of the most famous operetta films made in Austria in the period between the 1930s and late 1950s. The film, which premiered in Vienna on April 2, 1942, is a screen adaptation of Johann Strauss’ operetta with the same name, and the above described scene, preceding the opening credits, works as an introduction to the film, drawing attention to the various ingredients that typically distinguished Austrian operetta films (Bono, 1996). There is the Humor that operetta films have in common with comedy. High spirits both define the characters and infect the audience. Levity pervades the genre as well, for operetta films do not take themselves seriously (though they can be serious). Their stories generally revolve around love and the obstacles that first break up the couple, before a happy ending whisks them away. And there is Heart resounding in the songs, the sentimental atmosphere, and the melancholy tone that occasionally predominates. For the Heart that was a major ingredient in the recipe of Austrian operetta films is not equivalent to Love, the energetic, dynamic sentiment that triumphed in Hollywood musical films. In Austrian operetta films, Love is constantly connected to the vague recognition that everything is subject to decay and eventually will have an end. While Humor, Levity, and Heart are poured generously into the retort in the opening scene of Forst’s Wiener Blut, the alchemist only adds a few drops of History. This gesture summarizes the special relationship that Austrian musical films had with history. Aside from music, which naturally represented their most important ingredient, history was a major component. Their attitude toward history appears in fact as the element that deeply differentiated Austrian films of the time from, for instance, Hollywood’s musical films. Their world, narratives and characters unmistakably belong to modern America, music and dances are those of the 20th century. To an extent, Vincent Minnelli’s film Meet Me in St. Louis, produced by MGM in 1944 and set in the year 1903, appears rather as an exception among American musical films. By contrast, Austrian films were typically set in the past, their world was that of the Hapsburg monarchy between the time of the Congress of Vienna and Fin de Siècle. There are hardly any operetta films made in Austria between the 1930s and the after-war years that take place in the present. As for the musical films made in in the 1930s, they apparently stand between Hollywood and Vienna. The influence of the tradition of Viennese operetta on German musical films of the time is apparent; at the same time, German cinema strongly oriented itself towards America. It seems to be no coincidence that German cinema contributed to the development of the musical film genre at the beginning of the 1930s with two masterly works such as Der Kongress tanzt by and Die Drei von der Tankstelle by Wilhelm Thiele, the first one looking towards Vienna, the other towards America (Koebner, 2003). While Charell’s film followed in the line of Viennese operetta, drawing partly on Strauss’ operetta Wiener Blut (as would Forst’s later film), Thiele’s work was one of German musical films of the time that came nearest to the Hollywood model. As exemplified by Forst’s films Operette, Wiener Blut and Wiener Mädeln, Austrian musical film privileged the past, which raises the question: where does this penchant for the past come from? The answer sheds light on its affinity to the Viennese operetta that served as its model, the remark equally regarding the pre-war period as well as the 1950s. In its affection for the past, Austrian film followed in the steps of Viennese operetta. As German literature scholar and theater critic Volker Klotz (1991) has noted, “When and where does the dramatic action of the operetta take place? Rarely in one’s own environment and one’s own present. More often in another time and place” (p. 66). In doing so, operetta “presented an opportunity to confront the bleak limitation and colorlessness of everyday life with ecstasy, with a surfeit of abundance and color” (Klotz, p. 66).

81 ISSN 2414-8385 (Online) European Journal of January - April 2019 ISSN 2414-8377 (Print) Multidisciplinary Studies Volume 4, Issue 1

Austrian musical films had this in common with the historical genre: both conjure up a bygone past on screen and use history as the occasion to present a spectacle, aiming to impress with the splendor and exoticism of their settings. Yet, while historical films take care in appearing to be true (the spectator expecting them to be faithful to history), operetta films deal with history freely. What they recount must not necessarily be factual. They do not present it as such nor do we expect it. In operetta films, history took on a mellow nature, assuming the shape that films imposed on it. History adapts to the needs of the plot, real events taking a back seat to private affairs. Films like Der Kongress tanzt or Der Walzerkrieg, made by Ludwig Berger in Berlin in 1933, offer a combination of fantasy and history. Stories and characters were for the most part invented. History served as backdrop, while historical figures were often deployed as deux ex machina, contributing to develop the story and opening the way to its happy ending. This mixture specifically gave Austrian films their unmistakable flavor. Sometimes the Mitteleuropa which operettas often privileged as a setting, where kings fell in love with girls from the populace, war was a game and love decided over the future of states, took on the shape of a land of fantasy. As an example one could mention Strauss’ famous operetta Die lustige Witwe, adapted for the screen in Hollywood by Erich von Stroheim in 1925 and, again, by Ernst Lubitsch in 1934, as well as Hanns Schwarz’s film of 1931 Ihre Hoheit befiehlt, produced by the German UFA company, in which a princess and an army officer fall in love but mistake each other for, respectively, a hairdresser and a greengrocer. The series of operettas that take place in some fictitious little state of Central Europe leads back to French composer ’s operetta of 1867 La Grande-Duchesse de Gérolstein, set in an invented tiny German state, depicted on stage with an abundant dose of . A similar attitude characterized many of Hollywood’s and Berlin’s musical films set in old Mitteleuropa; they made fun of a world that did not exist anymore, wiped from the map of Europe by the war, interpreting the predominant sentiment of the time towards what was perceived as a forever-bygone epoch. The attitude of Austrian film of the time towards the past appears significantly different. When Austrian films bring the past onto the screen, they mostly did it with a certain dose of melancholy, looking back at the old times with, figuratively speaking, a tear of regret in their eyes. It is as if for them the better part of life lay behind. It might be for this reason that Austrian musical films often included historical figures among their characters, apparently employing them as testimonials of the bygone epoch, as if to prove that it really had once existed. An Austrian operetta film without Strauss’ or the emperor’s appearance almost seems unconceivable. Considered from the perspective of music history, operetta arose in the course of the 19th century as a reaction to the concomitant development of . At the same time, as Austrian scholar Martin Lichtfuss (1989) has stressed, “the political prerequisite for the development of the typical Viennese operetta [was] the failed revolution of 1848” (p. 19). In response to it and the societal stagnation which followed the events of 1848, operetta would increasingly turn away from politics, “a renunciation that would remain typical for the genre, up to its decline” (Lichtfuss, p. 19). The failure of the series of revolts against the monarchical institutions which, beginning in Sicily, spread across Europe in the course of 1848, including the Habsburg empire, set back the clock of history so to speak; the established order remained unaltered. Against this background, operetta changed and conforming to the times, became the place where the dreams of a disillusioned bourgeoisie came true. As remarked by Lichtfuss, “[Viennese operetta] did not serve as a reflection of criticism of the day;” “on the contrary, it confirmed the prevailing societal order” (p. 19). Here the affinity between the Viennese operetta and Austrian cinema of the 1930s to the 1950s fully emerges. Their perspectives seem comparable; the ideological stance of Austrian film of the time was similar to that of Viennese operetta. This similarity appears not restricted to the musical genre; rather, it should be understood as generally characterizing the films made in Austria in the period considered. Following in operetta’s path, Austrian film set itself out, in Lichtfuss’ words (1989), “to fulfill the fantasy world of the petit bourgeois” (p. 39). Viennese operetta made true the dreams of a society attempting in vain to postpone its end to tomorrow, and Austrian film would do likewise. Operetta glossed over the decline of the Hapsburg monarchy “with effervescent joie de vivre” and countered it with “a fleeting, sentimental, indulgent earthly paradise,” as Italian literature scholar Claudio Magris (2000) has put it (p. 201). Austrian film would draw on the world of operetta for the same purpose; it finds in it a means of escape, an antidote to everyday life. As remarked by Klotz (1991), if Viennese operetta tended to remove the present, preferably looking backwards, singing of the past, it did not “celebrate its favored epochs historicizing them, sight-reading from the pages of historical documents;” “it deliberately rearranged them” (p. 66). And renowned art historian Arnold Hauser (1962) has aptly described the operetta as “the most popular vehicle of idealization of the past right up to the Second World War;” “[it] seemed to be the picture of a happy life free from care and danger – of an idyll which had, however, never existed in reality” (vol. 4, p. 59). On the

82 ISSN 2414-8385 (Online) European Journal of January - April 2019 ISSN 2414-8377 (Print) Multidisciplinary Studies Volume 4, Issue 1 stage, operettas made Austria’s history easy to grasp and contributed to the popularization of the Hapsburg era and its mythos. This remark equally applies to Austrian film in the period considered. It dealt with history the way operetta taught it, adapting it freely. In recounting the country’s history on screen, Austrian cinema drew on Viennese operetta’s aesthetics and championed its ideology. In the operetta, it found the tools and formulas by which to interpret Austria’s history. Ernst Marischka’s post-war trilogy Sissi (1955), Sissi, die junge Kaiserin (1956) and Sissi - Schicksalsjahre einer Kaiserin (1957) about emperor Franz Joseph’s wife, may serve as an example. The answer to the question of whether these were history or operetta films must be: they are both. They are proof that in Austria the musical film coincided with the historical genre, with the latter taking the shape of the former. Musical films were the form in which the historical genre manifested itself in Austrian cinema of the time, with the resulting paradox that a historical genre as such hardly existed, in contrast to Italian cinema, for instance, where since its beginnings historical films played a major role. To express it differently: the musical film was the genre of which Austrian cinema made use to recount the country’s history; and operettas and, later, films such as Marischka’s popular Sissi trilogy or Forst’s Operette, Wiener Blut and Wiener Mädeln deeply influenced the way in which Austria long recalled its past. Yet the relation of Austrian films to the country’s history, and the use it made of the past, was more complex than it would seem at first. To see in them only a form of escapism would not do justice to their complexity. While economic crisis, internal conflict and, in the years following 1933, ’s efforts to take control over the Southern neighbor, put Austria’s existence at stake, Austrian (musical) films significantly contributed to shaping the country’s identity (Szabo-Knotik, 2002). This remark is true also for the post-war period. It would appear to be no coincidence that Marischka’s first Sissi film was made in 1955, that is in the year in which Austria regained its sovereignty following its annexation by Nazi Germany and a decade-long occupation by the Allies and the Soviet army, after the war’s end. In the 1950s, the world of the Hapsburg monarchy was popular in Austrian cinema, with the nostalgic wave emblematically peaking with Marischka’s trilogy, in the year which with the signing of the State Treaty on May 15, 1955 marked the birth of the Second Austrian Republic (Steiner, 1987). The tribute to the country’s past glory on the screen appears to be tightly connected to its reclamation of a place among European nations, which Austria celebrated at the time. Simultaneously, Austrian film, by extolling a happy past when the double-headed Hapsburg eagle flew over a thousand-year empire, concocting a world that feels like a dream, removed the reality of the then-present, in which Austria was but an extra in the game of international politics, “a card in the complicated game for influence spheres between the military alliance blocs created during the Cold War,” as historian Stephan Vajda (1980) has written (p. 595). 3. Forst’s Operetta Trilogy Forst’s films Operette, Wiener Blut and Wiener Mädeln stand exemplarily for the ambivalence and complexity which appear to intrinsically characterize Austrian operetta films of the time. Much has been written on Forst’s films, their ideological standpoint, as well as the historico-cultural context in which they were made (Fritz, 1991; Loacker, 2003; von Dassanowsky, 2005; Bono, 2010). They have been generally regarded as a high point in Forst’s career, counting among the most popular films in the history of Austrian cinema, and scholars have traditionally categorized them as a trilogy in which Forst celebrated operetta, Austrian music and cultural tradition. At the time in which Forst made Operette, Wiener Blut and Wiener Mädeln, Austria officially did not exist anymore; it was part of Germany, following its annexation by force to the Reich in March 1938. And after the war Forst would point to these films as proof of his distance from the Nazi regime: “I fled deliberately into the past with my film subjects of the time – and especially into music – so that ‘high places’ would exclude me a priori from political topics” (Bono, 2010, p. 125). Forst (1963) concurrently ascribed to his trilogy a character of resistance against the Nazi regime which, by incorporating Austria into Germany, degraded it to a province of the Reich and negated its identity. “My homeland was occupied by the Nazis, and my work became a silent protest. It sounds grotesque, but it is true: I made my most Austrian films at a time when Austria had ceased to exist” (p. 5). Early scholars generally shared Forst’s stance (Fritz, 1988), whereas more recently scholarship has rightly questioned it, underscoring the escapist nature of Operette, Wiener Blut and Wiener Mädeln, and their consonance with Nazi ideology (Hake, 2001). These aspects appear intertwined, and the ideological complexity and ambivalence of Forst’s films shall be closer considered here. Their relation to Austria’s history and then-present, as well as their use of the past, are many-faceted.

83 ISSN 2414-8385 (Online) European Journal of January - April 2019 ISSN 2414-8377 (Print) Multidisciplinary Studies Volume 4, Issue 1

Here it shall be argued that Forst’s films imparted and upheld a feeling of identity against the background of Austria’s annexation to the German Reich and the Second World War. Austrian (musical) films assumed a function previously catered to by Viennese operetta. Historian Moritz Csáky (1996) has ascribed to operetta “an identity-establishing effect” (p. 101), pointing to the “enormous socio-political and cultural impact range and relevance” (Csáky, 1983) that it assumed in the multi-ethnic Hapsburg state. In an age of growing nationalism, operetta lent thematic and musical expression to the idea of a trans-national monarchy. Csáky’s remarks shed new light on operetta films. The preeminent place that they maintained in Austrian cinema for over two decades can hardly be explained if we only regard them as a local variant of the musical genre. It is worth noting that, as concerns German cinema, the second half of the 1930s saw a flourishing of films, which would largely replace operetta films. By contrast, revue films never really took hold in Austrian cinema; the only one made in Vienna in the early 1940s was the ice revue film Der weisse Traum by Geza von Cziffra; it may be regarded as the classical exception that proves the rule. In Austria, operetta films enjoyed a degree of success and longevity that appears hardly explicable if, expanding the field of examination, one does not properly consider them as a socio-cultural phenomenon. According to Csáky (1996), operetta should be regarded as “a place of cultural memory,” in which, as argued by the Austrian scholar, “the diverse socio-cultural codes of the monarchical region were preserved and further conveyed” (p. 101). In the 1930s, Austrian film substituted operetta in this function. In doing so, it kept making use of an array of elements which were employed for decades by operetta. As examples one could mention the various kinds of music and dances, like waltz, and mazurka, abundantly present in operettas, which were employed as signs of the multi-cultural character of the Hapsburg empire. After operetta had gradually become extinguished in the course of the 1920s, Austrian film continued to use elements derived from it. In passing from the stage onto the screen, the waltz would maintain its role as a symbol for Austria. Over time, a number of elements once belonging to the culture and tradition of operetta progressively became reduced to clichés. The process began in the last years of life of Viennese operetta, yet was accelerated by cinema. Cinema would transform the world of operetta into a product to be cheaply sold, finally emptying it of any content. Yet, the disreputable decline of Austrian (operetta) films in the course of the 1950s, the dubious quality of part of them, should not affect the assessment of their importance as socio-cultural phenomenon. They significantly contributed to the concoction of an Austrian identity. It is also to be noted that, as stressed by Lichtfuss (1989), operetta was “a form of closely linked to (and practically inseparable from) the history of the Austro-Hungarian monarchy” (p. 24). In other words, it was a piece of the world to which it lent expression on stage, part of the image that it would convey of the Hapsburg era. The success of operetta films might also have to do with the fact that they substituted operetta as a symbol of bygone times, when operetta, its epoch, had long passed. Over time, operetta becomes a synonym for the past. As remarked by Hauser (1962), “thanks to this association of ideas, operetta survived the upheavals of the fin de siècle,” with the later pleasure in it deriving primarily “from the ‘good old times’ which were associated with this genre more directly than with any other” (p. 59). In taking its place in the 1930s, along with its music, stories and aesthetics, operetta films also appropriated themselves of the flavor of the times to which operetta belonged. This has not so much to do with the stories operetta films tell, with the costumes and sets they display. It rather derives from the very nature of operetta, which is perceived as a synonym of an epoch that is no more. Independently from their content, operetta films celebrate the felicity of the past, embodying a form of entertainment that is forever tied to it. In years when Austria was no more than a part of the German Reich, its name suppressed and replaced by “Ostmark”, Forst’s films, following Csáky’s suggestion as to Viennese operetta, functioned as a place of cultural memory. They employed the world of operetta as a symbol for an epoch when Vienna, and Austria, were at the center of a centuries-old empire. Operetta, to which Forst’s films pay homage, stands on the screen for a country and a culture to which the Nazi regime denied their right of existence. It symbolizes a world which Austrian novelist Stefan Zweig (1943) emblematically described as “the Golden Age of Security” (p. 13). “Everything in our almost thousand-year-old Austrian monarchy seemed based on permanency.” “Everything had its norm, its definite measure and weight. […] In this vast empire everything stood firmly and immovably in its appointed place” (p. 13), Zweig noted in his memoirs Die Welt von Gestern, written in the late 1930s in his South American exile shortly before taking his life. In about the same years, Joseph Roth was writing Kapuzinergruft and Die Geschichte der 1002. Nacht, looking back at the mythical epoch of the Hapsburg monarchy, which he contrasted with the present horror. As noted by Magris (2000), “the phenomenon of National Socialism, and altogether the fascist crisis that Europe had to endure in the 1920s between the two wars, caused a nostalgic mourning for the

84 ISSN 2414-8385 (Online) European Journal of January - April 2019 ISSN 2414-8377 (Print) Multidisciplinary Studies Volume 4, Issue 1

Hapsburg world” (p. 325). The idealization of the past that characterizes Forst’s films, and their nostalgic nature of opposition to the present, problematically permeated more generally part of Austrian culture of the time. The point is not to dispute that Forst’s films were in line with Berlin (as earlier scholarship generally did) and that their escapism had ideological connotations. The contention of many an Austrian director that his work was a tacit revolt against the Nazi regime appears problematic. “In theory of course, we were dependent for better or worse on Berlin. In practice, we kept trying to do nicely for ourselves,” , one of Austrian major directors of the period, recalled in a conversation with film historian Walter Fritz (1991). “From the beginning, we came up with a concept of how to avoid making a statement against the Zeitgeist. We escaped into the past” (pp. 118-119). Such a viewpoint has been critically opposed in more recent times. In an essay about the Wien-Film company, in whose hands film production was concentrated after Austria’s annexation to Germany, Austrian author Bernhard Frankfurter (1985) has denounced “the legend of a production site sealed off from the film politics of the Third Reich,” long nourished “in the perception of film and cultural history […] and [repeated] in time-worn, exculpatory phrases” (p. 188). Still, there might be grounds for Forst’s ascription of a propagandistic quality to his films. “If someone says to me today, ‘You never made a political film!’ I must reply, ‘That is not true. My films were in fact propaganda films, but for Vienna, for Austria!’” (Forst, 1946). Regarding Forst’s film Operette, Nazi propaganda minister Joseph Goebbels recorded in his diary, “Viennese people understand perfectly how to make propaganda for their city” (Heiss, 2003, p. 125).To an extent, the films that Forst directed following Germany’s annexation of Austria expressed a kind of opposition; but it was of a sentimental nature, not a political one, and hostile in general to the course of history. In the tradition of Viennese operetta, Forst’s films pleaded against all change and the passing of time. “Happy are those who forget what can no longer be changed,” goes the famous song from Strauss’ operetta , to which Forst gave a central place in his film Operette. This verse appears symbolic of Austria’s ambivalent relationship to history, which in the words of Austrian critic Hans Weigel (1970), found “no truer, more authentic, more legitimate, nor more competent expression, than in this drinking song” (p. 268). References [1] Bono, F. (1996). , leggerezza, sentiment, (trama), musica. In L. Quaresima (Ed.), Il cinema e le altre arti (pp. 385- 393). Venice: La Biennale di Venezia. [2] Bono, F. (2010). Willi Forst: Ein filmkritisches Porträt. : Edition Text + Kritik. [3] Csáky, M. (1983, April 16). Identität in der Operette zu finden? Die Presse. [4] Csáky, M. (1996). Ideologie der Operette und Wiener Moderne. Ein kulturhistorisches Essay zu österreichischen Identität. Vienna: Böhlau. [5] Forst, W. (1963). Kunst und Kolportage. Filmkunst, 39. [6] Forst, W. (1946, May). Der Wiener Film ist tot. Es lebe der Wiener Film. Film, 2. [7] Frankfurter, B. (1985). Rund um die Wien-Film-Produktion. In L. Wächter-Böhm (Ed.), Wien 1945 davor/danach. Vienna: Brandstätter. [8] Fritz, A. (Ed.). (1988), Der Wiener Film in 3. Reich. Vienna: Österreichisches Filmarchiv. [9] Fritz, W. (1991). Kino in Österreich 1929-1945: Der Tonfilm. Vienna: ÖBV. [10] Hagener, M., & Hans, J. (Eds.). (1999). Als die Filme singen lernten: Innovation und Tradition im Musikfilm 1928-1938. Munich: Edition Text + Kritik. [11] Hake, S. (2001). Popular Cinema of the Third Reich. Austin, TX: University of Texas Press. [12] Hauser, A. (1962). The Social History of Art (2nd ed.). : Routledge. [13] Heiss, G. (2003). Betrachtungen eines Unpolitischen. In A. Loacker (Ed.), Willi Forst: Ein Filmstil aus Wien. Vienna: Filmarchiv Austria. [14] Klotz, V. (1991). Operette: Porträt und Handbuch einer unerhörten Kunst. Munich: Piper. [15] Koebner, T. (2003). Wenn “Fortuna winke, winke macht”: Die Tonfilm-Operette. Das bedeutendste Kino-Genre in der Endzeit der Weimarer Republik (pp. 341-371). In T. Koebner (Ed.), Diesseits der “Dämonischen Leinwand“: Neue Perspektiven auf das späte Weimarer Kino. Munich: Edition Text + Kritik. [16] Lichtfuss, M. (1989). Operette im Ausverkauf. Vienna: Böhlau. [17] Loacker, A. (Ed.). (2003). Willi Forst: Ein Filmstil aus Wien. Vienna: Filmarchiv Austria. [18] Magris, C. (2000). Der habsburgische Mythos in der modernen österreichischen Literatur. Vienna: Szolnay. [19] Rother, R., & Mänz, P. (Eds.). (2008). Wenn ich sonntags in mein Kino geh’: Ton – Film – Musik 1929-1933. Bönen: Kettler. [20] Steiner, G. (1987). Die Heimat-Macher: Kino in Österreich 1946-1966. Vienna: Verlag für Gesellschaftskritik. [21] Szabo-Knotik, C. (2002). Strategien der Identitaetsstiftung im Musikfilm der Ersten Republik. In G. Krenn, & A. Loacker (Eds.), Zauber der Boheme: , und der deutschsprachige Musikfilm (pp. 365-414). Vienna: Filmarchiv Austria.

85 ISSN 2414-8385 (Online) European Journal of January - April 2019 ISSN 2414-8377 (Print) Multidisciplinary Studies Volume 4, Issue 1

[22] Uhlenbrok, K. (Ed.). (1998). MusikSpektakelFilm: Musiktheater und Tanzkultur im deutschen Film 1922-1937. Munich: Edition Text + Kritik. [23] Vajda, S. (1980). Felix Austria: Eine Geschichte Österreichs. Vienna: Ueberreuter. [24] von Dassanowsky, R. (1995). Austrian Cinema: A History. Jefferson, NC: McFarland. [25] Wedel, M. (2007). Der deutsche Musikfilm: Archeologie eines Genres 1914-1945. Munich: Edition Text + Kritik. [26] Weigel, H. (1970). Flucht von der Größe. Salzburg: Residenz. [27] Zweig, S. (1943). The World of Yesterday: An Autobiography (Trans.). London: Cassell.

86

Top View